


Fighting Robots

by katikat



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Episode Related, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 21:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13373130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katikat/pseuds/katikat
Summary: An alternate ending to episode 213. Mac falls off Bruno and cracks his skull. That’s what he gets for fighting evil robots. Mac’s POV. (Unbeta'd)





	Fighting Robots

**Author's Note:**

> This is for geminidaydreamer over on Tumblr who wanted a story where Mac would fall off Bruno and get injured. Mushy Mac and Jack story, basically.

Bruno goes from eighty miles an hour to a screeching halt in two seconds flat. When Allie uploads Riley’s program into its mainframe, Bruno doesn’t simply shut down, everything goes on lockdown - including the  _breaks_.

Mac, balanced precariously on Bruno’s roof, doesn’t stand a chance. He’s thrown forward, hard and fast, and the last thing he feels is the blinding pain as he smashes his head against the armored vehicle’s turret. The jarring drop to the sun-warmed pavement… not anymore.

* * *

He wakes up in the hospital; the antiseptic smell is unmistakable and unfortunately way too familiar. His whole body aches and burns, he’s bruised and scraped all over, he can feel that even before he opens his eyes, and he groans.

“Mac?” A whispers to his left.  _Jack_.

“Yeah?” he croaks out and blinks his eyes open sluggishly.

The room’s swimming around him, twisting and rolling, making him dizzy, nauseated even. Quickly, he closes his eyes again. It doesn’t help much. Even behind his eyelids he can see the world spin around and around.  _What the hell happened?_

There’s a soft scrape of chair legs on a linoleum floor as Jack moves closer and still in a whisper, he says, “In case you’re wondering, you cracked your head real bad. That’s what happens when you try riding a crazed robot like a bull.”

_Oh. Right. Bruno._

Slowly, Mac lifts his hand and finds his head swathed in bandages. He hisses through his teeth when his fingers hit a really sore spot and the pain in his head, dull and barely there before, flares to blinding agony.

“Hey,” Jack chides. He gently grabs Mac’s hand and forces it down, back onto the mattress. “Don’t do that. No poking! I think you've done enough damage to that noggin’ of yours already!”

Mac rides out the pain and when it dulls again, he takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. Then he turns his head to the left very,  _very_ carefully, mindful of the throbbing pain lurking around the edges of his mind.

He finds Jack there, sitting in a chair, looking more disheveled than usual. And bone-deep tired. “How was… your reunion?” Mac asks in a quiet voice.

Jack gives him a disbelieving look. “You almost break your skull open, fighting Skynet’s grandpa, and you want to know how my reunion went?”

Mac blinks at him, slowly, almost sleepily. “Yeah.”

Shaking his head, Jack mutters, “You’re a weird dude. I’ll tell you all about it once I’m sure you’ll actually remember it.”

Frowning hurts, so Mac doesn’t do that. But he’s so confused. “What?”

Jack leans forward. “Kid, this is the third time you woke up. Are you really with me this time?”

Is he? Mac mind seems foggy. If the room just stopped spinning, that would be great. He closes his eyes and just breathes for a moment. Then…  _wait a minute._

He opens his eyes again. “ _Third_ time?” he asks uncertainly. “How long…?”

“Two days since you took that leap,” Jack replies. “The team’s been around. Matty, Bozer and Riley, that Allie girl of yours - seriously, we’ll have words about that, why you didn’t tell me about her! - and even Cage called, all the way from Australia, and how did she know about this?” He waves a hand at Mac.

 _Two days._ He lost two whole days? He closes his eyes again and swallows hard repeatedly because he’s starting to feel sick again. Damn, he hates head injuries. “Don’t tell me you’ve been here all this time…” he whispers.

“ _Of course_ I’ve been here all this time!” Jack replies, sounding offended. “When I heard about what happened, I dropped our wannabe apocalypse starter at the police station and high-tailed it home because it seems that the moment I leave you out of my sight, there you go with the death wish again!” he grumbles.

Mac’s lips quirk up and he opens his eyes slowly. “Sorry,” he says, unrepentant.

“Yeah, I can see how sorry you are,” Jack complains. Then he takes a deep breath and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “But seriously, man. How do you feel? Because you look like a raccoon, white-faced and bruised-eyed. Not good. At all.”

Grimacing a little, Mac turns slowly onto his side, mindful of all the tubes and wires attached to his person. “I feel really,  _really_  lousy, Jack. Bruno really did a number on me.”

Jack furrows his brows. “Bruno? Oh, Allie’s runaway baby. Yeah, that stunt you pulled? Not your brightest idea.”

 _Well, true,_ he admits to himself. But… “It’s all that monkey’s fault!” he mutters.

“What? Why?” Jack asks, dumbfounded. Then he gets it. “Because it ran away with your  _knife_? How would’ve  _that_ thing helped? Would you’ve opened that monster truck like a can? Or unscrewed its wheels? Tell me, you genius, how would’ve a Swiss Army knife helped you stop an  _armored vehicle_?”

“I don’t know but I’m sure I would’ve figured out something,” Mac mumbles, feeling petulant. Must be the head injury.

“ _Right_ ,” Jack responds, nodding sagely. 

But then he smiles and there’s deep fondness in his expression all of a sudden that goes hand in hand with his just as deep exasperation. “Then I hope you’ll like this.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a little blue box.

Mac stares at it. “What is it?” he asks.

“It’s a little something I got you,” Jack explains, fumbling with the lid. “I felt bad about what happened, back in South America, so…”

Mac’s eyes widen when he sees what’s nestled inside the box: a shiny new Swiss Army knife! It’s even red, too! He reaches out for it eagerly. Jack takes it out of the box and puts it in his hand.

“ _Jack_ …” Mac whispers, staring down at the brand new tool, rubbing his thumb across the Helvetic cross stamped into the handle.

Jack clears his throat. “I know I’m not your grandfather but I thought, hey…” He shrugs.

Mac curls his fingers around the knife tightly and looks at Jack, touched. “Thank you. It’s  _perfect_.”

“If it helps you stop the  _next_ robot apocalypse…” Jack shrugs again.

Mac would roll his eyes if his head didn’t feel so…  _woolly_. “You’re  _still_ fixated on that?”

Jack stares at him in disbelief. “Are you  _kidding_ me? Now more than ever! Did you see what that thing did?”

“Yeah, Jack! I was right on top of it,” Mac reminds him.

“My point exactly! Arnie’s coming, buddy, I’m telling you!” Jack nods and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest in a very “so there” gesture.

Fondly exasperated - apparently,  _that_ feeling’s mutual - Mac closes his eyes and laughs.


End file.
